May I Have This Dance?
by Acepilot6
Summary: Part of the Valentines Day Fanfiction Festival. Phil finally works up the guts to go and ask. PK


**May I Have This Dance?  
**Acepilot

AN - Part of the Valentines Day Fanfiction Festival. Hope you all enjoy it. Phil/Kimmi with Tommy/Lil discussion involved. It's not Road series, it's not even One Day. It's just it's own story. Yes, I can write those. Please review!

Disclaimer - The AGU gang are property of KlaskyCsupo.

-

The perfect romantic gesture. Ask a girl to dance on Valentines day. It's got a certain class, a certain flare. It's any girls dream, they tell you.

They neatly forget to mention that it's as difficult as a final-year math test and as terrifying as a good horror movie coupled with an adrenaline and sugar rush.

"Are you going to sit there all night or are you actually going to ask the girl to dance" my sister asks, taking a seat next to me with a glass of punch in her hand.

"Sitting here all night is starting to sound kinda good" I confess, watching my crush from across a crowded dance floor. The DJ is playing some stupid wannabe pop crap for this phase of the dance, and the lights are flashing accordingly, creating what ends up as something of a homicidal assault on the eyes and ears.

I'm so fixated on her, I barely even notice Lil whack me over the back of the head.

Barely.

"What was that for" I ask as I rub at my scalp.

Lil huffs and crosses her arms, slumping back into her chair and pitting me with her best glare. "Phillip, you really are an idiot, aren't you"

I nod. "Yeah, so"

She effects something of an exasperated moan and buries her head in her hands. "Phillip" her muffled voice begins before she finally raises her head to meet my eyes again"this girl has come to the dance unescorted. Do you know why"

"Because no-one asked her" I venture, aware that I'm treading on eggshells. "Because Chazz wouldn't let her"

"No" she mutters with strained patience"to both. Z asked her. He asks her every year. Chazz was more puzzled than anyone when she turned him down." Lil glares at me once more. This rock-hard, lasers-for-eyes gaze inspires most men to cower in fear (watching Tommy react is priceless every time), but having lived eighteen years with it has made me immune. To an extent. "She's here unescorted because the person she was hoping to ask her didn't."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh." I look back over at her and notice for the first time the vague trace of tears in her eyes. "Who was that"

Five, four, three, two, one.

"Ow" I exclaim again. "Okay, okay."

"Go over there and ask the poor girl to dance, Phillip. God knows why she likes you" Lil mutters under her breath"but for some insane reason, she does. Don't blow it."

My sister finally rises from her seat and glides effortlessly over to Tommy, who has watched our little exchange from afar with obvious amusement. My best friend offers me an all-too-smug smirk, which I respond to with a remember-I-could-beat-you-up-for-making-out-with-my-sister smile. He counters with a at-least-I-had-the-guts-to-do-something grin, and I'm about to unleash my best you're-a-dead-man-Pickles frown when Lil cuts us both off with her truly terrifying if-you-two-don't-stop-silently-fighting-you're-gonna-be-hitting-the-high-octaves-for-a-month glower.

I wisely wipe my face clean of any expression.

That is, until I turn back and watch her across the dance floor.

And catch her watching me.

I offer her a soft smile, struggling for ideas on how to approach this lovely creature and say something to her. Anything. I'm not fussed, really. Just...anything.

Like just going up and talking to her.

She smiles back at me.

Her dress is a glorious red. A deep, deep scarlet that she somehow carries off flawlessly. I'm in my usual unimaginative black. I realize I'm humming music from Les Miserables' and quit it promptly.

Just go up, and talk to her.

Asking a girl to dance shouldn't be this big a deal.

I rise slowly from my seat, my feet wobbling slightly. I try to stop them but then I realize it's more an issue with my entire body rather than just the feet. They're largely innocent of any wrongdoing here.

I cross the floor slowly, one defiant step at a time, brushing pink crete' paper from my hair as I neatly dodge around couples moving to the slower song picking up over the loudspeakers. My first instinct at the change of music is to back away, leave it until the pop rubbish starts up again and I can get her to dance with me without there being any actual contact involved.

But I could just go up, and talk to her, and be happier for it.

She smiles at me vibrantly, just showing a trace of her perfect white teeth as I finally step up to her where she leans against one of the discarded dining tables. My body starts shaking again, and the brilliant air of confidence she's giving off is not helping matters one iota.

Just talk to her. Ask her.

"Kim" I begin, and almost die of shock at the sound of my own voice. I spoke.

Of course, this shouldn't really be anything new. I've known this girl since we were two years old. I've talked to her endlessly. About sport, about school, about clothes (to an extent), about shopping (to an even lesser extent). When Chuckie left and Tommy and Lil started going out, we bonded. Talking to her isn't anything new at all.

But for some reason, saying just the first syllable of her name seems to be one of the greatest triumphs of my life to date.

"May I..." I take a deep breath. That was two syllables. We're pushing it now. I breathe in and out unsteadily, fighting the temptation to watch the floor and instead focusing directly on her eyes and her eyes alone, hoping to god she doesn't try to become to expressive through them. I'd really be in trouble if I had to have another silent conversation tonight.

"have" I continue, almost stuttering. We're in the home stretch now. I can do this. I feel my confidence building slowly. But surely. I don't look away. I can't look away.

"...this dance" I conclude. There's a momentary lapse in concentration as I run loosely over the last five seconds of my life and pray to everyone who'll listen that this doesn't give me a heart attack.

She grins at me. "I'd love to" she tells me.

The temptation to let out the breath I've been holding is great, but it would be incredibly clichéd. I resist as I take her hand and lead her out on to the floor, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

Lil gives me a you-did-it grin, but before I can respond, Tommy catches my eye with a Chuckie's-gonna-flip smirk.

I hadn't thought of that. But for the moment, I don't care.

Who has time for that when you've got to remember how to dance on Valentines Day?

-

the Les Mis reference kind of slipped itself in there without me realizing it. sorry. it's a reference to a song in the musical called Red/Black. what did you think of the fic?


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